


Tachy

by postapocalyptic_cryptic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, CC-1010 | Fox Needs A Hug, CC-1010 | Fox Whump, CT-4523 | Zipper Never Shuts Up, Coruscant Guards (Star Wars), Exhaustion, Expanding my menagerie of ocs because you will see them Soon, Freeze Squadron (Star Wars), Gen, Order 66 Happened Differently (Star Wars), Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Protective CC-3636 | Wolffe, Protective Siblings, Tired CC-1010 | Fox, Vague Star Trek Reference, Whump, and wolffe is fully prepared to give it to him, he just needs a lot of help okay, tachycardia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29520501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postapocalyptic_cryptic/pseuds/postapocalyptic_cryptic
Summary: “Come on, Fox, head between your knees. You know the drill.” As gently as possible, Wolffe pushes Fox upright and helps him arrange himself in an approximation of the recovery position. He’s gasping and shaking and, now that Wolffe has his hands on him, burning up. “There you go,” Wolffe murmurs, keeping one hand on Fox’s head, carding through his hair, and using the other to comm medbay. “Deep breaths, Fox’ika.”The war is over, but Fox is far from out of the woods.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Tachy

**Author's Note:**

> OC Rundown:  
> CT-4523 | Zipper - This mf is Freeze Squadron's CMO. If you're familiar with my fics, you may know Freeze Squadron as the one that belongs to Commander Cryo. This is Zipper's first appearance.  
> CT-7410 | Origin - 1/2 of the Freeze Chaos Twins. First appearance.  
> CT-7401 | Knockoff - 2/2 of the Freeze Chaos Twins. First appearance.
> 
> (Also Commander Cryo is slated to make an appearance midway through next week in her first longfic 😳)

Wolffe’s not surprised when Fox goes down two days after the end of the war. He’s also not surprised when it happens during one of the few moments of Fox’s day when Thire’s not following him around like a lost tooka. 

Wolffe’s coming around the corner of a hallway on the 87th story of the Senate Building when he spots him. Fox is walking along with his head buried in a datapad, fingers trailing along the wall beside him. He’s in his blacks and his bottoms, and the state of his hair tells Wolffe he likely just got out of bed. 

Fox takes a funny step and goes stumbling halfway across the hall, looking up from his datapad just in time to catch himself. Then, his right knee buckles. Wolffe surges forward, but he’s too far behind to do much good. The ‘pad falls to the ground as Fox tries to grab the wall, but he’s too far gone. He slides to the floor in a heap just as Wolffe reaches him. 

This close, Wolffe can hear the way he’s panting, breathing like he’d just run a set of sprints instead of walking a dozen meters. Wolffe drops to his knees with a clatter, doing his best to make sure Fox knows he’s there before grabbing his shoulders. 

“Come on, Fox, head between your knees. You know the drill.” As gently as possible, Wolffe pushes Fox upright and helps him arrange himself in an approximation of the recovery position. He’s gasping and shaking and, now that Wolffe has his hands on him, burning up. “There you go,” Wolffe murmurs, keeping one hand on Fox’s head, carding through his hair, and using the other to comm medbay. “Deep breaths, Fox’ika.”

“Wolffe,” Fox manages. The panting is quickly turning to hyperventilating. “Wolffe, somethin’s… somethin’s wrong,” he slurs, voice faint and panicky. 

“I know, Fox, I know,” Wolffe says, pausing his petting to push Fox’s curls off his forehead. “Pick your head up and show me your eyes for just a second, okay?” Fox does as he’s told and Wolffe curses. His eyes are hazy and he’s pale as a ghost, but more worrying is the way Wolffe can see his pulse racing at his jugular. “Shit, vod’ika.” 

“Sorry,” Fox breathes, dropping his head back to his knees. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m not angry,” Wolffe assures him. “I’m worried. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Wolffe’s comm finally connects. _“Zipper, Med-12.”_

“I need medical on the 87th floor just outside Commander Fox’s office,” Wolffe says, ignoring the way Fox jerks under his hand. “Just had a trooper collapse. Fast pulse, fever, confused. Don’t bring anyone you don’t need.” 

_“Copy, Commander. We’ll be with you in three.”_

Fox tries to sit up and fails miserably, getting as far as giving Wolffe puppy-dog eyes over his knees before dropping his head again. “Wolffe, don’t… No medics. ‘M fine. J’s… Back to my office?” 

Wolffe takes his helmet off. “You just collapsed, vod. You’re going to the medbay. Everything’s going to be fine. You know Zipper; he’d never make a big deal out of it.”

At first, Fox’s only response to that is an unintelligible whimper. Then, his breathing picks up and he picks his head up again, eyes darting wildly. “I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I didn’t mean- I don’t want- _hurts.”_ Fox breaks off with his first true sob. 

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, vod’ika.” Wolffe reaches for Fox and a hand darts out to grab his. Fox squeezes so hard Wolffe can feel bones grinding together. “What hurts, Fox?” 

Fox’s legs fall limply to the floor, recovery position forgotten, and he taps his chest with his free hand. “Here. Head. _Everywhere.”_

 _What’s taking Zipper so long?_ Wolffe checks his comms. It’s barely been a minute. “Medics are on the way, Fox; you’re going to be fine.” Wolffe reaches out and puts a hand over Fox’s heart. _Gods,_ but it’s going fast, fluttering and tripping over itself in a reaction to an imagined danger. Fox squeezes his hand again and a tear falls down his cheek. 

“Gonna die, Wolffe,” Fox chokes. 

This time, it’s Wolffe who squeezes Fox’s hands. “No, you’re not,” he says firmly. “Not while I’m here. Would I ever let you die on my watch? Alpha would never let me hear the end of it.” 

Fox manages some semblance of a laugh through the wheezing. Wolffe counts that as a victory, even if immediately after, his face screws up and he clutches his chest like he really _is_ going to die and Force damnit where is-

“Wolffe!” 

Wolffe’s head jerks up. It’s Zipper, and he’s brought two other Freeze troopers, as well as one of the baby Jetiise that have been hanging around the medbay. Jemma, he thinks her name is. One of the troopers is pushing a float bed. “Zipper. Get your ass over here.” 

“Coming, I’m coming.” Zipper sprints to them and shoes Wolffe out of the way as he kneels down in front of Fox. “Alright, Commander, let’s see what you’ve gotten yourself into.” Zipper pulls out a scanner and waves the kid over. “Jemma, I want to see what you can turn up with a look into the Force.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jemma replies, far brighter than anything Wolffe’s heard in a long time. Her tiny hands find Fox’s forehead, resting in almost the same place as Wolffe’s had minutes before. She cringes. “I think he’s-”

“Tachycardic? Yeah, that’s what I’m getting, too.” Zipper curses and tucks his scanner back into his bag. “Knockoff, get over here and help me get him on the gurney.” 

Fox is beginning to realize what’s happening and he’s _not_ pleased about it. Clumsily, he reaches for Wolffe, but Wolffe can’t get to him with the trooper in the way. Fox sees this and makes a distressed noise, thrashing and trying his damndest to kick Knockoff as he’s lifted into the gurney. 

“Commander,” Zipper says from Fox’s side. “You need to calm down. You’re having a panic attack combined with a tachycardia episode, and getting upset will only make it worse.”

They’re long past ‘upset,’ Wolffe wants to snap as his little fucking _brother_ cries on the gurney, but he knows Zipper is just trying to help. He’s right. Getting worked up isn’t going to do Fox any good. “Fox,” he says instead. Hazy, tear-filled eyes find his as he steps up beside the now-moving gurney. “Eyes on me, vod’ika. You’re alright. Take a breath for me.” 

Across the gurney, Zipper turns to Jemma. “Jemma, see what you can do about slowing his heart down. If this turns into arrhythmia, we’re all going to have a really fucking bad day.” Then, he digs through his bag and pulls out a portable oxygen mask. “Commander, I’m going to put an oxygen mask on you. It should help you breathe better, but if it’s making it worse, let me know.” 

Fox takes another shuddering breath. Wolffe blinks slowly, never taking his eyes off of Fox’s. Fox squeezes his hand. 

“Go ahead,” Wolffe says to Zipper as they get in the elevator. 

Zipper fastens the mask over Fox’s flushed face, at the same time turning to the other Freeze Squad trooper. “Origin, take my ID and run a medical override on the lift. Jemma, how are we doing?” 

The poor jet’ika gives Zipper a panicked look. “Good? I think his heartbeat is steadier now.” 

Zipper nods. “Good job. Go ahead and call down to 12, okay? I’ll take care of the Commander.” The kid, clearly relieved to be given an easier task, nods and turns away to type something into her communicator. Zipper sighs, taking a moment to run a hand down his face before taking his scanner back out. “Doing great, Commander,” he says. “We’re almost down to medbay. If you can calm down a bit, I can sedate you and this will all be over a lot faster.” 

Fox just keeps gasping for air and babbling fearful nonsense in Wolffe’s general direction. Wolffe hangs on to his hand. 

* * *

In the end, it takes Zipper nearly half an hour to calm Fox down. He’s able to stop the tachycardia after ten minutes or so, and isn’t afraid of any lasting damage, but Fox continues to panic, shaking apart on the hospital bed and begging them not to hurt anyone, begging them for forgiveness, begging them to make it stop. Wolffe has rarely been so angry. He focuses the energy into helping Fox take the rest of his armor off. 

This is far from Fox’s first stress-induced health issue. Wolffe vividly remembers the night he’d spent on a holocall with Stone and Thorn, talking them down from their panic while Fox suffered through some sort of tic attack. They’d been too scared to bring him to medbay. General Koon had gotten on the call and calmly talked them through the basics of anxiety-induced muscle spasms. The sadness in his eyes when he told Stone that the only thing they could do was give Fox a mouthguard, get him comfortable, and sit with him until it stopped was the same sadness the General wore when Wolffe talked about his vode marching on: helpless. 

Now, Fox is drifting on the edge of consciousness, limp and exhausted in Wolffe’s lap. He’ll fall asleep like this, Wolffe knows, but it’ll take him a good fifteen or twenty minutes. All Wolffe has to do is let him cling and keep petting his hair. 

Across the room, Zipper sighs, hopping up to sit on the edge of the counter. “He’ll be alright. Physically, at least. I’ll watch him for more heart issues, but he should be fine.” 

Wolffe nods, pressing his cheek against Fox’s hair. Fox huffs and nudges him back. 

“He needs rest,” Zipper says. “I don’t want him up and moving in any serious capacity for at least a week. Keep him hydrated and fed, don’t stress him out, make sure he sleeps at _least_ ten hours a day. Really, I’d like it to be more like twelve or thirteen, but I’m a medic, not a miracle-worker.” 

Wolffe sighs. He knows that Fox has been riding the sharp edge between duty and death, had been since the beginning of the war, but to hear someone like Zipper, someone who deals with special ops and Quinlan fucking Vos all day, put it so plainly is jarring. He doesn’t know how to say any of that without Fox getting worried, though, so all he says is, “Understood.”

Zipper stands and makes for the door, apparently satisfied with Wolffe’s ability to watch over Fox. Before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder and says, “It’s not going to be easy. Most of it is going to be up to him.”

“I understand.” 

Zipper closes the door behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I hope you enjoyed. I had some plans to write this over again and make it more polished, but my mental health has been doing its best impersonation of an out-of-control pendulum lately and I wanted to get something short out while I write my upcoming longfic (currently named "The Only Straight People That Have Rights" in my docs).  
> As always, don't be afraid to hit me up in the comments or on tumblr @postapocalyptic-cryptic-fic or @chiafett and may the Force be with you!


End file.
